#'you're an adult now you can have your own opinions and a say in what happens to you'

[emmersonisdesperate]

Ranting about Romantic Prongsfoot or Prongsfoot in general??

I saw someone post saying romantic Prongsfoot is basically incest. I sighed then scrolled. Was that so hard? Seeing an opinion you don't like, and then just moving on? Because that's exactly what romantic Prongsfoot is, an opinion.

The fandom analyzed canon Sirius's behavior, actions and dialogue when it involved James and we all pretty much came to the conclusion that Sirius's entire world revolved around James. Like a dog, a man's best friend, he was incredibly loyal and devoted to James.

Then, some of us decided to take a step further and made them soulmates in a platonic sense. Not best friends, brothers, but soulmates. Like we're talking Viktor and Jayce level.

That's like the one thing wolfstar, Jegulus and Prongsfoot shippers have in common; James and Sirius are soulmates. Or even something deeper if you want to take a step further. All the famous fanfics have this, where James and Sirius have Something between them, even if it's a Jegulus or wolfstar fanfic.

That's why some of you feel like romantic Prongsfoot is incest. Because most fanfics have written them as brothers, you're reading two characters that are portrayed as brothers so often, you start to perceive them as brothers. You think they're brothers.

And you're allowed to! No like, you're very allowed to. Can I emphasize again, how often fanfics portray them as brothers? Like genuinely, no one's stopping you.

But you have to understand, that's your perspective, your view, your opinion. It's not a fact because they are not brothers. They are close as brothers yes, but not actually.

They don't have a ragbros situation. Sirius wasn't adopted into the Potter family at 8 or something and then raised by them after. That's probably incest. I have an adopted brother, I do know.

He was adopted into the family at 16. You're considered an adult at 18 in the wizarding world. He had inheritance from his uncle Alphard. It's said he moved out on his own later.

All this implies Sirius didn't live that long with Potters. I'm not saying Sirius didn't develop a familial bond with the Potters because he was too old during the adoption. He probably did see Euphimia and Monty as his parents at some point.

But he was James' best friend so much longer than their son. A couple of limited years with the Potters is nothing compared to the 5+ years he spent being James' best friend. I say limited because he keeps being that best friend even after he moved out.

That bond, if you want, can be solidified into something sibling-level after the adoption. You can have your headcanons, fantasies and fanfics where Sirius runs away to a healthier, welcoming family!!

But I don't think their bond could just change like that?? Again, around 5+ years of having this special connection, where they are used to living together, sharing the same space, being glued to each other, why would being adopted into the family change anything between them?? Besides like, getting yelled at together by James' parents, their routine would have stayed the same.

And you're telling me I CANT romanticize that?? Because YOU see them as brothers??? When they're so much deeper than that???

Would it not have solidified it more?? Would it not have gotten deeper?? Especially when they have privacy now.

Like you can't tell me they weren't having conversations where they bared their souls to each other, diving in and revealing the ugliest parts to each other, deepest fears, insecurities, quite literally breaking themselves down into pieces because it's just them there and then putting those pieces back together, glued with loving words and gentle touches because it's them. Or fucking. Up to y'all idk.

I'm going off the rails. The point is, you can dislike, like, hate, love ships for whatever reasons, I genuinely don't care. But if you're hating on a ship because you FEEL like it's incest, please just keep it to yourself. No one wants to be told their favorite ship reminds you of incest.

Again, tagging filters exist, I don't consider prongsfoot a rarepair but it's true people rarely write them. You literally cannot accidentally stumble upon prongsfoot fanfics and literally no one's forcing you to read them??

Prongsfoot is like the least problematic thing in this fandom?? And its barely problematic!! People ship ACTUAL incest!! Like starcest!! (...good for them but also like...)

calling prongsfoot incest when actual incest ships exists is insane.

[wwoofington]

i wonder how people expect me to not feel stupid when theyre constantly telling me all of my opinions are wrong and stupid and i'm too young to know anything

[quicklikelight]

Saw a post just now that was like, how do you work full time and still have time for hobbies? And I think that's a great question to ask, as people navigating a world where increasingly our labor is entirely for the benefit of some faceless (or worse, incredibly public) billionaire and no one else.

I'm a person who takes my labor seriously, and I have had the pleasure and privilege of only working for non-profit or not-for-profit organizations throughout my adult career. I worked part-time for a regular corporation once for six months before I quit out of disgust, and I've worked for a couple of family-owned small businesses during college, but the overwhelming majority of my 12+ year career so far has been in a profit void, which does help.

Even still, I have colleagues at my big shiny non-profit who say, "Anne you have so many hobbies! How on earth do you have time for them?" And the key is,

If I don't make time for my personal passions, I'll die.

I'm not being dramatic. It isn't a joke. An intrinsic and necessary part of me -- the part that labors for love, that labors for the desire of it, for the enjoyment -- will die if I do not create time and space to do that labor. And without that love, that passionate hobby investment, the part of me that is left will not then decide, hey I should labor more for money! It will not decide, hey I should invest in my relationships! It will not decide, hey I should invest in myself as a human being! In my environment! In my community! In the world!

It will decide, if there is no time for joy in the world, I will not be in the world. I will doomscroll endlessly on my phone. I will watch re-runs of a beloved sitcom for 3 hours, exhausted on my sofa, and go to bed. I will show up to work still groggy from the day before, and I will be angry in meetings, and I will be exhausted from customer interactions, and I will either want to cry or I will have zero feelings at all as I enter yet another figure into another cell of the universal spreadsheet. I will not be my best self anywhere, for any reason, because my best self is dead.

People say things like, "I don't dream of labor," and I respect that. But a lot of labor is very good. It's work, to knit a sweater. It's work, to write a book. It's work, to raise a garden, or a goat, or a child. It's work to bake bread, and to sew pants, and to rebuild small engines. It's work to create, and that is--in my humble opinion--what we're here for. To spend all day idly eating grapes would drive a lot of us to the brink. The problem isn't labor--it's capital.

To make time for your hobbies means working intentionally to identify those passion projects as a necessary part of your reason for being on the earth. My job on this earth is not to assign training. My job on this earth is to create beauty, and write stories, and make clothes, and connect from my heart. When that truth is accepted, and you put in the effort to rebirth the part of you that died to capitalism, then it becomes very obvious that the relevant question isn't "how do I make time for hobbies."

The question is, "How do I ensure that my job does not take up all the mental and physical energy I have so that I can re-invest that energy into myself?"

A good place to start is to plan your days / weeks / months with an understanding of your mental/physical boundaries and just do that. There are ways to do this most effectively (collective bargaining, creating a schedule that honors the need for focus vs collaboration, bringing your hobbies to work and being open about how they make your work better) but the most important thing, in my opinion, is for you to understand that your full time job isn't you. It's not what makes you special or important in this world, and it's not what people will remember about you when you're gone, and it's not going to feed you if you stop showing up. So give it as little as you can comfortably get by with, preserve that precious energy, and put it into something that sets your soul alight.

When you invest in the labor that loves you back, that provides for you, that keeps you alive... you'll stop accepting a world in which you cannot dream of labor for fear of losing yourself.

And maybe, at the end, you'll have a sweater. :)

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 🔞 | Oneshot

"Does he even pay you?"

Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, friends with benefits situation, major angst, mentions of sex work, smoking, smut, god so much filth, Dom!Jungkook, big dick JK but what's new, did I mention angst?, protected sex, multiple rounds, multiple positions, a brief thighjob, so many feelings

Length: 7k+ words

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Oneshot.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"How does it feel to be a celebrity and ending up with me?" You wonder at him over the music, making him frown before he shakes his head, pulling you in by your hands he's holding.

"What're you talking about babe?" He argues softly, letting go of your hands to hold your waist now. "I've got the prettiest girl at my side, in my opinion. Can't complain whatsoever." He tells you into your ear, voice raised a bit and slightly raspy from his last smoking break.

You just shrug, enjoying the music when some people approach you, talking to Jungkook about something you don't listen in on, even though he's still holding you close. It's none of your business, you really don't want to get too involved with his work and everything around it, but it's clear that he likes to do exactly that.

Jungkook wants you around all the time. Doesn't matter if it fits the scene and situation, if he can invite you or bring you along, he will.

Fans don't know your connection to him. They constantly battle it out in comment sections that you're just a translator, nothing else, that you're staff so of course you have to travel alongside him. And just how they can seem to connect everything to dating if it fits their 'ship' they've got inside their minds, they're also talented in finding thousands of (sometimes frankly ridiculous) reasons as to why it cannot possibly be true either.

While before, someone wearing the same jewelry as Jungkook was a confirmation of a relationship, with you its just pure coincidence. You're an adult woman, you can choose whatever necklace or ring you want, that doesn't mean you're dating him. You're wearing the same t-shirt he wore just a day ago? Maybe you just own the same, or he was nice enough to lend it to you for one reason or the other. Seen near his hotel room? Well of course, you're staff!

The truth is, that you're not even staff at all- but you're also not dating him.

Jungkook has become awfully… comfortable in his trust that fans will brush off every rumor floating around. It's why he's shamelessly grabbing your tits from behind right now just for the fun of it, lips kissing your neck as you slap them off to hold your waist instead. "They'll call it AI-generated or something." He laughs, but you can't shake off the feeling of doubt about that. "And there's no one here filming anyways. It's a private VIP zone, so relax baby." He chuckles, swaying you with him to the beat.

He's right that this is a secluded zone- but that's never stopped anything ever before, did it. One random Instagram live where you're both seen in the background and it's over. For both of you.

"Let's go back to the hotel though. I'm horny as fuck." He laughs, making you roll your eyes with red cheeks to go with.

Jungkook is a shameless person- he doesn't see anything wrong with the things he says or does if they're not hurting anybody. He's got his own opinions and he stands by them, only ever shifting his stance if there's undeniable evidence of him being wrong shown to him. And he also enjoys the more physical aspects of love.

Jungkook enjoys sex to its fullest.

He used to sleep around quite often, his charm and also wealth and status enough to make the act of finding someone willing fairly easy. Most wouldn't be believed anyways if they openly said he'd slept with them- he made sure they never took pictures or god forbid videos, and he also never stayed the night, most of the time preferred the security of his own home where he could politely tell them to leave after the deed was done, his reasoning always having to do something with his work.

'I'm sorry, I got called up to the studio.'

'Fuck I forgot I had a flight early morning tomorrow.'

'I'm really sorry, ah this is awkward, but my manager just told me to a live now, and I can't have you being seen.'

You knew he did this. You were staff at some point, after all, even if not hired by his company but rather outsourced during a particularly demanding schedule and many other employees sick due to a viral infection going around in the office building.

You'd been just another victim of his. But somehow, he ended up biting down too hard- making him taste blood, Primal hunger awakened at the mind-blowing experience he'd had, an odd need to keep you just for himself having blossomed from it all. You were a keeper, you still are- and while it's not really love, it's good enough for him. Close enough.

He reminds you, regularly, that it's not love, with how he never claims to love you, avoids the topic altogether, always tells others you're just very close even when it's obvious just like tonight that you're a little too close to just be something casual. But he enjoys your presence nonetheless. Like a dear friend, just with some deeper layers to it.

Some staff call you his personal prostitute. And in a way, you do sometimes feel like that.

Jungkook is that kind of man who could have sex first thing in the morning. Doesn't even have to wake up fully- if you touch him just a bit, he'll come to life in an instant, if he's not sporting a boner already. He enjoys the exhaustion he feels afterwards, always pushes you past your first and second O, keeps his own saved up for the very last stretch all the time. He draws it out to high heavens, has trouble calling it quits.

Shower sex he's mastered, knows exactly where to step and what position to get into to make it as safe as possible. He loves having you on his large sofa, leather easy to clean after you're both done. Sixty-nine is his favorite dinner for two, though he has to admit that lately, he's been enjoying the more closer positions a lot more. Spooning from behind, lotus, you name it- you've become more than just an outlet for him.

He doesn't know what they call you behind his back. What your unofficial status is. They'd never admit that to him, because why would they? No one wants to get on his bad side if they don't have to.

He's on his phone, free hand on your thigh as you both sit in the back of the car that's driving him back to his hotel. He's gonna get out first, make his way inside, while you'll get in later from the back entrance to not raise any suspicion. It's normal. Routine. You've mastered it by now.

"I'll see you in ten." He winks before he makes his way out the car, rushing past some fans who've found out his location, bodyguards already there to guide him inside the lobby.

"Does he pay you?" The driver chuckles, and you shake your head. "Damn." The elderly man clicks his tongue. "Go find yourself an actual man, dear." He tells you as he parks behind the hotel, watching you move, your phone vibrating in your pocket, before it stops suddenly. "You know what they call you, right?"

"I know." You admit quietly.

"And you're okay with that? You're too sweet to let yourself be used like that. Have some self-worth." The man tells you with a kind tone. "I've seen you around long enough to know that you're kind, and a nice person. Trust me, you can and will find a proper man to love you right. But this?" He shakes his head. "You know he just wants you because you've become routine."

"I know." You repeat again, sighing a little.

"You're not what they say you are. You're just a little soft at heart, hm?" The old guy smiles over his shoulder, watching you unbundled your seatbelt. "Trust me, he won't be sad if you call it quits. I've worked for guys like this for more than thirty years- they'll just jump to the next." He explains, and you smile to yourself, before you nod towards the man. "Never mess with entertainers, sweetheart. They'll always break your heart." he offers.

"I know." You say once more, before you exit the car, and get on your way to Jungkook's hotel room.

You don't officially share one, but he still keeps you around for most of the night. You leave whenever he has to do a livestream or if he wants to go to bed, and you come back if he wants you to- but most nights you sleep alone, because he deems it too intimate for you to stay.

Apparently, sleeping in the same bed is more intimate than spitting on your cunt. Interesting.

When you knock on the door, Jungkook opens. Something's off, you notice it right away, but you don't dwell on it, don't answer. It's none of your business, and he won't tell you anyways, so what's the point in just further inducing his bad mood.

It's quiet as he moves around, since he doesn't talk to you, and you don't know what to say. You wait for him to make his move, and when he doesn't, you get up to grab your sweater you forgot in his room earlier, just to have him stand behind you, hands on your hips. "I didn't forget about you." He chuckles, and you let the fabric slip out of your fingers and back onto the floor as he kisses the crook of your neck.

Maybe jungkook is indeed using you. But you've started to use him just as much, if only to even out the odds, and make yourself feel more than just cheap company.

He slips out of his shirt. You raise your arms to help him take off yours, your naked skin at this point almost a requirement for him every time he takes you. He used to be satisfied with just fucking you somewhere quiet quick and simple to quench his thirst, but over the course of time now nearing an entire year, he's become more and more hungry. Like he wants to crawl underneath your skin at some point, the Idol constantly pushes himself more and more inside your body, not just in a sexual sense. He buys you clothes he thinks will look good on you, has a playlist just for when you're at his place filled with somber lovesongs more about heartbreak than anything else. He claims he didn't look up the lyrics, but you know he's lying. He knows a lot more english than he admits, just so he can pull the 'I don't understand' card whenever he's asked a question he doesn't want to answer.

He lets you wear his clothes without much comment by now, has gifted you jewelry he's worn and liked, laughs any mention of that being 'such a sweet gesture' off if anyone around him mentions it. He's not your boyfriend, but he surely is starting to act like it- maybe the lines are blurring for him just as much as they do for you?

People around you have started betting. On when he's gonna have another one, when you'll be 'swapped out' for something else, or at what point he's gonna make it official that you're indeed more than just nightly company. You don't await that day. It's never gonna come anyways.

"Turn around." He commands, and you do, because that's the easiest way to get where you want to be down the line. Head empty, no thoughts left, fucked stupid by a man who keeps you around for just your body and the familiarity you provide. You don't really mind any longer, long having stopped caring about emotions that are fruitless, bound to rot and die because Jungkook won't ever nurture anything you'd try and plant in his heart. He doesn't want it, and doesn't need it either- if he wants to feel loved, he just has to show his face to his millions of fans always on edge for more content. That's where he gets his love from. Maybe you're just there to feed other desires he can't have fulfilled like that.

He licks his lips as he gazes over your naked upper body, bra long undone by his hands on your back, fingers trained in the routine by now. You remember the surprise he'd shown you when you'd worn one with the clasp up front, face so soft and round for just a second that it felt like you'd just slipped into a dream- but his hunger had quickly returned, because Jungkook is a beast never satisfied. He craves more and more, constantly aims for absolute euphoria, never soft, never gentle.

Jungkook bites. He claims, grips, holds and pushes- he's aware over the physical strength he holds over you, and plays around with the fact almost every night. From tugging on your leg to pushing your head down whenever you decide to please him with your mouth instead for once. Something about the way you swallow around him and swirl your tongue always makes him feral, thighs trembling as the muscles spasm beneath the skin from the force of his orgasm. Maybe that's why he keeps you around. Because you can keep up.

His own shirt is shed, and his hands make quick work of his belt before he helps you out of your pants as well. He'd told you he didn't want to use the bed tonight, because asking for new sheets is always awkward, but he does it anyways- picks you up just to let you fall onto the bed, crawling over you. "What do you want?" You ask out of breath, but he just tilts his head in familiar habit, until it shakes no.

"Don't know yet." He answers. This is new.

Usually he always has a fixed scene set out, knows how he wants to take you right away, but this time he visibly seems unsure where to start. Almost like the first time.

He spits in his hand, doesn't bother taking off the rings, fingers working you up like it's second nature. He knows where to place them, how to move and what patterns to choose- and you don't bother thinking about the possible reason for it. Probably to get you wet and ready quick so he can get to the actual act itself, or maybe he just finds some sort of personal satisfaction from it. You're not sure- and neither do you really want to ask.

You're a little cold, but he'll warm you up soon. Hopefully you won't get sick like last time. Will he find someone else to fuck if you're unavailable?

Who knows. He surely has a lot to choose from, if he so much as asked.

He's got a question on his mind, but visibly contemplates on asking it. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, tongue playing with the twin piercings placed there for a second, before he leans in, kisses you. This is one of those things he does that are just outright cruel to you. His kisses full of fever and want feel so burning hot that you're sure you're marked by them for life. Like a signature he's inked underneath your skin almost he claims you again and again like this, with his tongue teasing yours, mouths open and ready to steal each other's breath.

He surely takes yours hostage, every time- and that's probably the smallest crime he commits.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, and it catches you off guard, eyes opening again, painfully tugged back into reality where he lets his sticky hand run over your abdomen, just to settle on your hipbone. "Your stomach keeps growling." He teases, and you come crashing down. Of course. He'd never actually remember to ask that out of the blue if it wasn't for something reminding him about it.

"Not really." You respond, adjusting your position a little bit, legs trying to pull him closer. "Doesn't matter." You say, and he hums, leaning down again to mouth at your neck- probably marking his territory again, a joke made on a constant whenever you turn up with the blooming bruises on your skin, their origin more than obvious.

"Hm." He hums, almost dissatisfied, but you don't bother to think about it. He moves to lean off the side of the bed, pulling his suitcase closer to get himself a condom, opening the package easily before he rolls it over his length. He seems oddly soft tonight, in more ways than one. Is he still exhausted from the shooting? Could be. He never wants to admit himself that he has to take breaks, thinks that his body can just magically manifest strength from nothing but pure thought, and it used to irritate you, because you felt responsible, in a way. But that was when you still saw more in this than there actually was- nowadays, it's his business, not yours. He's got nutritionists and personal trainers who get paid for taking care of him. It's not your job.

What is your job, really?

Well, you're most certainly not working under his company any longer, and neither have you returned to your original agency either- simply because Jungkook's management deemed you too much of a danger in your position, after the idol had let it slip that you two were having sex on a regular basis. So you just signed an NDA, got paid for your silence, now earning a living by writing books. Modern fantasy novels, where the daydreams you once had can actually become reality, and your hopes and wishes can be dreamed of by other people who have the same.

It's good money. A hobby you cherish.

Jungkook has never asked you what you work as nowadays. He doesn't even visit your apartment, has never seen it before, and he doesn't know if you have family either. He just takes you as his, lets you live alongside him and entertains you whenever he's in the mood for it. And you let him, because these days, he's all you've got. There's not much else you can do than write all day at home or accompany him on his overseas schedules.

You're not sure why he always drags you along, when back home, he won't even call you for days. Maybe he doesn't have to? Maybe his bed at home is always warm. But if that's the case, why not take them on a trip once in a while? Does he have designated women for specific occasions?

Then who will the woman be he chooses to show to the public one day? Number three in his harem?

You can't even truly blame him. As someone he grew up in this industry, his view on the world is warped, shifted, not the same colors as yours. He doesn't feel the same worth in a simple banknote that you do, he can't understand the struggle of missing the bus or having to face an empty fridge.

"Sit up, baby." He tells you, chuckles when you struggle a little to do so- compared to him, flying around all the time actually does take a toll on you. And the petname doesn't make it any better in this moment, as his hands reach out to hold you steady, helping your legs over his thighs, before he guides the head of his cock into you. He wants you close tonight it seems like. Hopefully he keeps holding you, because you're not very energetic this time. "I've got you." He says, and you nod, resting your arms around his neck, hands faintly touching the skin of his back. "Are you cold?" He wonders.

"A bit." You respond. He's probably noticed your icy fingertips.

"I'll warm you up." He purrs, and you nod. You know he will. He always does- always hot hearted in everything he does, even in this. He holds you close, hands on your behind helping you move, your hips rolling a bit too slow for his liking, but he overlooks it for once. You're not sure what's up with him tonight. This isn't him. "You tired, baby?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." You tell him, but he shakes his head, moves to lay you down, knees pressed into the soft hotel bed mattress as he thrusts his hips forwards.

"It's alright." He brushes it off. "Flight was long as hell." He muses, lazily moving himself. You're enjoying this, even if it's odd for him to behave this way. "Wanna come over for breakfast tomorrow morning?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Can't." You sigh, arms now moving to lay above your head, eyes closed in bliss. "I fly out back home at 8 tomorrow." You remind him, and you can't see the way his brows lower, face darkening as he realizes he didn't know that. You usually fly back after him. Why are you going home sooner this time?

"Why?" He huffs out, hands grabbing your legs as he pulls your thighs over his, pushing himself deeper now. "You always fly after me." He almost growls.

"I dunno.." You slur. "Management said." You just respond. Why does he seem so irritated by this? It's not a huge deal at all if you fly back sooner or later. He's not gonna call you up back home anyways, so why does it bother him so much.

"Management can go fuck themselves." He argues. "You fly after me. I'll book the flight myself if I have to." he demands practically, slight irritation causing him to have his energy boil up, position adjusted as he becomes more restless, balls smacking loudly against you cunt, pace a lot more ruthless now.

You're finally reaching it. Your head becomes fuzzy.

You don't notice Jungkook becoming almost.. satisfied from that sight of your tension finally leaving. You're nothing but whimpers of pleasure as he slips out of you, hands tugging and pushing your legs and body to have you on your side, the taller Idol now laying down on his side behind you to spoon you, dragging the head of his length through your soaked and slicked up folds. one hand holds up your thigh, helps in opening you up, though you're pretty much gaping from his girth stretching you out moments prior. His lips find your shoulder, your neck, as he pushes himself back inside with the help of your hands-

who suddenly do something new as well, tugging the condom from his cock, making him gasp out in sensitivity. "What're you doing?" He grows.

"IUD." You tell him. "Please-" You beg, and yet again he moves as if awakened from slumber, pushing you halfway on your stomach as he pushes the now bare head of his cock back inside you. This is most certainly new, and he knows for a fact, that he's never going back again.

"Fuck.." He almost laughs, leaning over you now, body covering yours as he just pushes himself in for a good moment, humming a sound of pleasure into your neck as he lets himself relish in the new sensation. "Ah-" He sighs out, before he clenches his jaw, thrusting hard as if to make sure your body will remember him for days to come.

It will. Sadly.

"God, fuck-!" He groans out, holding onto your body now, having turned you onto your side, hand reaching out adjust your arm so he can see your face. Your lips are parted, eyes closed in bliss, and he can't help but have his hand smack down onto your behind that's moving in a way that's way too inviting. He does it a second time, slap clearly heard as he smirks at the way you clench around his cock currently rearranging your insides. He moves your leg to rest over his shoulder, reaching even deeper, hand underneath your belly button pressing where he can faintly feel himself move.

No one can blame him for being absolutely obsessed with your body.

He can feel the way you begin to tighten, thighs shaking a little as you come undone, his hands moving your legs again to close them once more, holding them up, slipping out of your clenching cunt to push his cock right between your soft and wet thighs. it's enough for a moment, though you reach out to touch the tip poking through almost teasingly, making him laugh as he suddenly sighs out, groaning as he spills over your stomach and up your chest. You're breathing heavily, and don't notice you start to shiver, as he parts from you to turn on the light in the bathroom to clean up.

Aftercare is not really his thing- and you've come to accept that.

When you sit up, you stretch your arms in front of you, muscles slowly regaining strength as you wait for Jungkook to finish up, toilet flushing before he emerges again, shamelessly walking without underwear, gaze following you as you walk past him to use the bathroom yourself.

The moment you re-emerge to grab your clothes, he's sitting on the edge of the bed with his boxers back on, phone in his hand. "I booked the flight for you. Tomorrow at 12:30." He tells you as you slip back into your underwear, not bothering with the bra as you search for where he'd thrown your shirt. "Here." He offers- and you slip the garment on with a thanks, only noticing afterwards that that's not yours at all, oversized fabric reaching almost to your knees. "Cute." He comments way too quiet to be meant to be heard, so you don't mention it at all.

"Why is the flight-thing so important?" You wonder, slipping into your socks as he moves around to find the hotel room service menu.

"Because you always fly back after me." He repeats again, clearing his throat.

"…you already said that." You mumble to yourself, but he clearly hears you.

"Fuck alright, god damnit!" He whines in complaint, rolling his eyes. "If you were to fly back earlier, you'll run right into all the paparazzi and shit waiting for me. That's why you're meant to fly back later- so they're gone by the time you arrive." He explains, and you're stunned in the spot you're standing, watching him a bit confused.

So that's the reason?

"It's not like they know." You say, unsure why he's so adamant about it.

"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "I'm not having them jump you for whatever reason they might have." He denies, before he sits down in the seat near the window which blinds are shut. "Now what do you wanna eat?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"I'll eat something tomorrow morning." You deny, and he slumps back in his seat, eyes closed and tongue pushed against his cheek.

"What do you want to fucking eat, babe." He repeats, making sure to pronounce the petname before he looks at you with frustration.

"Nothing." You respond. "Are we done?" You ask him, and he shakes his head, setting the menu down before he crosses his arms.

"No." He denies. "What to they call you?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's getting at, shaking your head with brows furrowed in confusion.

"What're you talking about?" You ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What do they call you?" He repeats. "I heard what you talked about in the car when I left."

"How?" You ask baffled.

"Telepathy." He jokes without humor, before he scoffs to himself. "I called you to actually ask you if you wanted to eat something- but you must've accidentally accepted the call without looking, because I clearly listened in on a convo I wasn't supposed to hear." He explains. "Either way, I want an answer. What. Do. They. Call. You." He demands, and you sigh.

"Why does it matter?" You argue, searching for your leggings in the room- finding them over the armrest of the chair he's currently sitting in. "I'm your personal prostitute, just without the pay." You tell him, and it takes him a second to realize that that's your answer.

Suddenly, he wants you out the room.

Not because he doesn't want you here any longer, but because the guilt is eating him alive with ever second he has to look at you. Because the more he think about it, the more it becomes obvious to him that this really must look like just that to everyone. After all, he's just taking you with him apparently for sex, and he's become so comfortable in it that he didn't think about it any longer. It's what you want too, right?

Jungkook has never really learned how to convey his emotions properly. He doesn't know what it's like to fall in love, has no idea what to look out for. He likes spending time with you, and enjoys the sex to the point that he's been monogamous with only you for the past year or so. It's nice to be in a relationship, even though he knows this one isn't normal. It's still okay, because down the line, you understand each other. He likes you, he just doesn't want people to use that against him or you at some point- so he keeps your status to himself. No one needs to know you're a couple. Only you and him. Because.. you know that, right?

"You know that's not what you are to me, right?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Does it matter?" You ask. "It's none of my business who I am to you, or whoever you screw apart from me." You say.

"What?" He asks, crossed arms unraveling. "I'm not fucking anyone but you." He says.

"Cool." You say.

"Cool? That's it?" He argues. "How can you be so calm about everyone else telling you I'm apparently cheating on you?" He worries, and you're yet again confused.

"What're you talking about?" You ask. "That's got nothing to do with cheating." You say.

"No no no no whoa there. Stop for a second." He holds his hands out as if to soothe a raging crowd of people, looking at the carpet. "You- you do know we're in a relationship, right?" He asks you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know. "Oh my fucking god are you kidding me…" He complains into his hands, covering his face in frustration.

"How the hell was I supposed to know?" You say, now with your own arms crossed. "Jungkook, you rarely even talk to me when we're back home. You only take me with you when you've got something up overseas, you constantly tell people we're just friends, you've never even asked me out in the first place!" You argue.

"We've been fucking each other for almost a year, I thought it was obvious I liked you?!" He whines, looking at you with what you realize are tears brimming on his waterline. Why is he so emotional now? "Have you- did you see anyone other than me?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head.

"No." You deny.

"Okay. Fuck- okay." He takes a deep breath, swallows down his panic. "I like you. I don't- I've got no clue if it's love or not because I don't know, alright? But I like you, a lot, to the point where I want us to be something permanent." He tries to explain. "Just us. You and me." He underlines, and you shrug.

"Jungkook, it's not that easy." You sigh. "If this has been what you think a relationship is like, then we won't work out."

"Alright, then what do you need me to do?" He argues, not letting go. "God- fuck, tell me what do I have to do to make you stay?" He asks, voice cracking.

"Jungkook, calm down-" You start, but he shakes his head, swallows thickly, bottom lip quivering for just a second before he licks over it, pulls it in between his teeth.

"I can't-! Not when it sounds like you're gonna leave me-" He worries.

"I'm not, don't worry. I'll stay. Just.. breathe for a second, alright?" You ask, getting up to walk closer, pushing his shoulders back to force him out of his slumped over position. "Hey- okay?" You ask, and he instead pulls you closer, sits you onto his lap, before he clings onto you, resting his forehead in your shoulder. "Why do you never reach out to me when we're home? You're confusing me." You gently tell him, and he shrugs.

"I'm scared they'll see you." He sniffles. "If they do- they'll tear you apart." He sighs. "When we're out here, like this- I can just.. claim you're staff, whatever. But at home- I can't.. I don't know how to protect you." He shakes his head.

"You should've told me." You sigh, leaning into him. "I was hurt, you know?" You tell him.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He apologizes, pulls you just a bit closer. "I don't know what to do." He whines.

"What if you just visit me instead?" You offer. "They don't know where I live. And my windows are all mirrored so no one can look inside." You tell him.

"…since when?" he asks, leaning away from you a little so that you can finally see his face again, eyes red, a stray tear escaping him that you wipe off.

"Since a few months ago? Jungkook you don't even know my apartment in the first place. You've never visited me at all, ever!" You laugh, and he sighs.

"I know, and I.. always wanted to, you know, visit you.. spend time with you but.." He runs a hand over his face.

"You're okay. We talked about it now." You nod, an action he copies. "I'll come back tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast together, okay?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"No, you gotta stay." He denies. "I don't care if you don't like that, but I need you close tonight." He says.

"Never said I don't." You say. "You just seemed uncomfortable with it." You wonder.

"Because I snore!" He whines, throwing his head back. "I snore, I move a lot, I might cling to you at night or I sweat, or whatever the fuck- I'm not as perfect as I'm made out to be." He complains.

"Jungkook sorry, but what the fuck." You laugh, and he can't help but smile at the sight and sound of you happy. "You can fart and burp like whatever, and I'd still stay. You're human, I'm not perfect either!" You explain, but he shakes his head, leaning forwards to kiss your already blossoming bruises on your neck.

"No, you are." He says. "You're absolutely perfect." He argues.

"Not really." You deny.

"Stop arguing." He complains, squeezes your waist a bit.

"What're you gonna do about it?" You tease, and he looks up at you with a heated gaze.

"Get me nice n' hard and I'll show you." He responds, making you giggle with eyes rolling, as you lean back to tug him out of his underwear, a hiss leaving him. "Fuck, baby your hands are icy!" He laughs, leaning back to hold your legs so you don't slip off of his thighs.

"That's cause it's cold in here!" You joke back, warming your hands up on his already heated length, skin already flushed and swelling as the blood rushes back. His hands travel beneath the shirt you wear, softly grabbing at the flesh of your chest, making you get up to shed your underwear and get back onto his lap.

"Think you can ride me on this thing?" He asks, talking about the seat he's sitting in. "Kinda tired right now, won't lie."

"Huh, making me do all the work now?" You raise your brows. "And here I thought you wanted to take us seriously.." You sigh, attempting to joke- but he clearly doesn't take it as such, face becoming serious again.

"Lift your hips a little." He demands, and you do so- unsure what he's trying to do, before he spits into his hand once more, feeling you up between your legs to check if you're ready. You are- quickly slicking up at the thought of him, and he guides his length inside of you again, stretching you out once more, but this time, it's not just sex.

He refuses to move. He just helps you settle on his lap, but holds onto your hips, keeping you from moving. "Jungkook-" You whine, but he shakes his head, and pulls your face closer to kiss you.

"No, I wanna stay like this for a bit." He denies.

"But I thought we wanted to eat something later?" You ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I'm trying to be romantic here." He complains.

"By putting your dick inside me?" You ask.

"Well I don't know what else to do!" He whines. "I.. I don't really know how else to properly express.." He falls deep into thought for a second or two, before he finally says it. "I don't know how else to make sure you can.."

"..feel how much I love you."

You're quiet for a good while, watching how he rather looks at your neck than at you in particular, avoiding eye contact as he continues to move his hands back to your sides underneath your shirt. "Jungkook…" You mumble, and he cringes.

"Don't-" He sighs, clicks his tongue in irritation. "-don't pity me or something-" He begins.

"No no no I'm not pitying you I just-" You cut him off, now your hands holding his cheeks to force him to look at you. Because you just realized something in the things he's said earlier. "Remember how you said.. you want me to fly back after you?" You ask, and he nods.

"Yeah." He answers, his way warmer palms now taking yours from his face, holding them in his. "Of course."

"That's.. something that also shows that you care about me." You say. "Because, you didn't say that you were worried about someone spotting me and putting your career on the line- but that you were worried about me being in danger." You remind him, and he nods. "Or how you noticed my stomach growling, and wondered if I ate today." You giggle.

"I already wondered if you didn't- cause I didn't see you eat anything." He shrugs.

"See?" You hum towards him, running your hand through his hair. "That shows you care, too." You say.

"But I want you to feel it." He complains stubbornly. "I want you to.. feel the same as I do when I'm around you." He offers.

"Horny?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes, throwing his head back.

"That too-" He laughs. "But mostly.. just, I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard to explain. It's like chest constricts when I'm not around you. Whenever I'm home, I miss you so bad that I sometimes go to sleep early just to avoid giving in and calling you. I have to distract myself just to not think about you- and yet I still do, almost all the time." He sighs, tucking your hair behind your ears. "When I wake up.." He hums, hands moving to your shoulders. "When I do my morning routine.." He explains, letting his fingers travel over the length of your arms. "When I work out.." He continues. "When I go to bed. It doesn't matter at all." He shakes his head.

"You know you don't have to make up something just to make me stay, right?" You ask him, and at that, his eyes immediately snap back up to you, panic returning.

"I'm not." He denies instantly. "I'm really not-" he urges. "-how can I prove it?" He worries.

"You.. listen, it's not something that you can just clear up in a moment." You sigh. "It's gonna take time. We're basically starting from scratch here." You explain, and he nods.

"Do you.. should we stop then?" He asks, glancing between your bodies for a second. "Until you believe me?" He wonders, and you shrug, before you shake your head.

"No." You deny. "I'd miss you too much-" You tell him, before you adjust your legs, arms around his neck. "-And you'd probably go insane without sex." You tease.

"Not without sex." He denies, watching how you begin to move your hips, letting him slip out until just the very tip remains inside you. "But without you." He clarifies. "It's not sex I want- that's a… I don't know. It's the closeness I feel, you know?" He sighs when you sink back down. "I just like touching you.. being inside you.." He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he leans back into the seat while your hands settle on his shoulders to keep you balanced, pace slow but fast enough to intensify the pleasure you both feel. "Just like that.." He sighs out in bliss.

"I have a really nice couch, you know?" You hum towards him, making him smile while his hands find your waist. "My bed is really big too.." You tell him, and he opens his eyes a little at that.

"Big enough for two?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Guess we have to find out." You tease, and he nods, hands moving from your waist to your hips before one of them finds your heat between your legs where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

"Is the couch sturdy?" He wonders, fingers playing with your clit now, making the muscles in your thighs twitch.

"Ah- yes!" You whine, picking up your pace.

"Hm, gonna fuck you on it then." He chuckles. "Stress-test it." He jokes, and you whimper as you come undone, your slick now coating his own legs, strings of the sticky fluid keeping you both connected, wet sounds echoing off the walls of the hotel room. "Break it." He growls, heels on the ground helping him in shifting his hips upwards into you, catching you off guard, your orgasm washing over you in a wave threatening to drown you.

You're shaking, but you still move, needing to feel him reach his high as well, and he does find his own release, spilling whatever he's got left to give, holding you close, kissing whatever skin he can reach from how you're hugging him now, breathing slowly easing again.

And he keeps you like this, uncaring of the food since it's by now too late to order any roomservice anyways.

And for the first time, he actually sleeps next to you, in the same bed-

promising himself to do everything he can to keep you this close, for now and as long as you'll have him.

[starfxkrinc]

pervert - sarah x reader x rafe

kinktober day 4 - incest?ish? sorta not really they don't touch.

lets all pretend that sarah is still kook princess and rafe is crazy but not murder people crazy for this okay? ok. they're all still a "happy" family.

rafe hated you almost as much as he hated sarah. he hated how you two whispered and giggled in your own language. how you moved in synch, like a hive mind. sarah couldn't have everything she wanted, and right now he wanted you too.

sarah was your best friend, so much so that when her family went on vacation so did you. to say you were attached at the hip was an understatement. ward used to say it was like you were the same person, two halves of a whole so to speak.

rafe saw it differently, he saw how sarah bossed you around. even when she did it with that sweet smile on her face, rafe swore there was a mean glint there. almost self satisfied. because if sarah said you were going out thats what you did, and if she changed your outfit even though you told her you liked it well you just trust her opinion. and when sarah told you to "ignore her weirdo brother" you did that too, darting your eyes away when he looked at you and scurrying behind her when she left you alone with him.

he thought he had you figured out. sarah had to own everything, even you, and it pissed him off.

now you thought you were better than him. you scoffed when he spoke and rolled your eyes every time he entered the room. just like sarah. and it made him ache with the need to wipe the smirks of both your faces. he would imagine pinching into your soft flesh, digging his nails deep until he broke skin and you were crying. just how he did to her when she was little. rafe figured nothing would be funny when he was done with the both of you, maybe then you'd respect him more.

but there was a little hope this vacation would be different, you were all adults and if he tried rafe wouldn't run into you at all. you and sarah spent your days on the beach and nights at beach parties and clubs just like he hoped. it meant he had time.

when everyone was gone rafe would circle back to the house, scavenging through you and sarah's shared belongings in the dark, flipping through newly updated scrapbooks and rummaging through dirty laundry. it was a rush every time, his heart would thud and his dick would pulse at the thought if the invasion. neither of you had any idea of what he was doing. he would spit in mascara tubes and drag pairs of clean panties across his balls. didn't matter who's it was--yours or sarah's--as long as something was defiled in some way. as long as rafe was included.

it was gonna be routine as usual when he picked up a pair of pink polka dotted underwear, could be yours, he saw you pull them out of your suitcase. could be sarah's, he saw her wear them.

but he stopped, you left your camera and it was still on, it's led screen slightly dimmed but rafe grabbed it. he started to scroll through. there's no way there's pictures he hasn't seen.

there was. and videos. you and sarah in the shower together, kissing and soapy. flashing the mirror in a dressing room. another in your room, grabbing each other's asses in the mirror with your skirts flipped up. you're wearing the panties this time.

"what the fuck..." rafe couldn't stop scrolling. he guesses topper's fears of you two being dykes werent unfounded because here you were, eating her out no less than what had to be 15 minutes before you left the house.

when you walked into the room, lip gloss already smudged and already tipsy off two vodka crans he froze.

"rafe you fucking pervert gimme that!" you lunged at him, tripping over your heels as he jerked back, holding the camera above his head.

he knows you can feel him hard against your stomach, he doesn't care, "mind telling me what this is about."

for once you look nervous, "none of your fucking business rafe give it here--"

rafe jerks back again, "now given how this shit is full of videos of my sister cheating on my best friend, i think it is my fuckin business." he dangles it over your head, watching as your expression shifts to a glare, "and need i remind you...you have a boyfriend sweetheart. there's a lottt of people who would be very interested in knowing the kook princesses are dyking every night."

you laugh, and rafe's taken aback, "please rafe give me a break." you laugh again, leaning closer against his chest with a smirk, "you're just fuckin jealous."

"of who? sarah? you fuckin wish." rafe's blood runs cold when you shake your head no, leaning up on your toes until your lips brush his.

"of me. cause i got to her first. but i'll share, just this once." you kiss him, tongue first with a flick against his own and he moans.

there's the taste of your lipgloss yeah--strawberry and sticky sweet, but something else. headier, muskier, that lights up his tastebuds and he almost melts.

sarah, still lingering on your lips with such potency rafe's sure you had one more round before coming back. he's so hard he's dizzy, letting you direct him to the bed with a hand shoved down his pants, rolling your palm over his tip.

"you think we don't know rafe? you think we just see your nasty fucking cum in our underwear and don't know where it came from? cmon now i'm a slut but not that big of one." you waste no time with build up, shoving his shorts down. you were only supposed to come back for a quick second for the camera and you needed to be back soon.

rafe's flustered, for once. bucking his hips up to chase your fist, mouth agape as he keeps licking his lips, "you-- think that's all i did? christ you're fuckin stupid." he lets out a pained groan when you smack his balls, but you snort when he lets out a sticky spurt of precum against his torso.

"as if, now shut the fuck up i have to go soon," in a slight fumble you reach under your dress, slipping off your underwear you shove them in his mouth. he barely has time to register it as you spit directly on his tip, making him shudder as you spread it across his shaft, "now hurry up and you can snoop to your heart's desire."

with a kiss to his panty suffed mouth you speed up, keeping one hand resting at his base as the wet schlick of your motions fill the room, "damn rafe, you almost get as wet as she does." your hands are covered in him, precum running down your knuckles and your wrists as he groans beneath you.

"fuckfuckfuck," rafe's voice is muffled, but his quickening breath and tense thighs are all you need to know he's close. already you can feel his balls drawing up, so you cup them in your hand, massaging and coaxing him along.

"fuckin finally, there you go let it out."

he cums so long and so hard you're worried he'll black out. hips stuttering as he struggles to catch his breath."

while he's still fazed you grab the camera, wiping his cum off on your shorts as you get up to leave, "make sure you clean up okay? if sarah finds out i did this without her she'll be pissed."

with that you leave, heels clacking as you rush down the stairs and the door slams.

rafe takes the underwear out his mouth--this time baby blue with little clouds on them.

sarah wore these earlier.

[dee-the-red-witch]

Right. June Pinned post. Let's fuckin' go.

Hi.

I'm Denice. More commonly Dee. Mid-40's transfem poly lesbian. And I do a lot of stuff.

First and foremost, I'm an artist and leatherworker. You'll find links to all of that here.

I also write, do tarot readings, and review media. All of that's here.

If you're local to me in the PNW, I also tattoo:

I also have my GRS and FFS coming up in under six months, and am desperately trying to cover funds for the recovery time from both.

And if that all wasn't enough, I also voice act, cook, parent, spend way too much time as a gym rat, still don't know what a jerma is, post lewd for tummy tuesday soemtimes because I can, and tend to Have Opinions. I'd say you should throw money at me in general for it, but that's neither here nor there.

I do not care if you're a minor who decides to follow me (unless you insist on making it weird. This is an adult space. Cope.) I will not tag for nsfw or mature content, since both get used for targeted harrassment. Police your own experience. Ask box is still open for now, put any other questions there.

[kortsitron]

Corruption

✮ PARING Hobie Brown × Trans Male! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS reader realizes he's trans, pre-transition reader, religious themes, christianity, fluff, angst, supportive! hobie, reader is referred to as a girl/daughter in some moments, hobie and reader are both young adults, gender dysphoria, toxic parents, abuse, transphobia, cursing, reader is referred by she/her by his parents, happy ending

✮ SUMMARY A stranger comes to your town and helps you realize who you are

✮ A/N  If you know me, you probably know my opinion on Christianity and religion in general, but I won't lie, I kinda like the religious themes. Especially when it's about being taken out of it and realizing that the world has so much to offer once you leave it. I guess it's my type of thing since I have been raised as a catholic little ‘girl’ and now I hate religion with pure passion after having it shown down my throat for years when I was younger. One more thing, if you're not comfortable, please do not read this. I am aware there are people who can be triggered by any of the things mentioned in the warnings/tags. If you decide to read this, I hope you're going to enjoy it! <3

In a way inspired by confessions by @eyesxxyou

ao3 masterlist requests

You were such a perfect girl in everyone's eyes. Always so nice and polite, obedient towards your parents, in church every Sunday. You were so feminine, so lovely. Always wore those pretty dresses and skirts of yours, along with the necklace with virgin Mary on your pretty neck. And your gorgeous long hair. You were a perfection to everyone around you.

But you didn't feel perfect in the slightest.

You felt so wrong for some reason you couldn't quite name. Your body felt like a cage you couldn't get out of and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you wanted to cut your hair, hide your body under some baggy clothing and yell at everyone who called you a girl. But obviously you couldn't do that, no matter how much you wanted to. You didn't want people to look at you weirdly, to call you a freak. 

So you decided to stay quiet, knowing that nothing was going to change because you were too scared to do it on your own. Scared of judgment and scared of being abandoned. 

All you did was pray that your sinful fantasies would simply go away. But instead of them going away, something else happened. Like the prayers from the depth of your heart have been heard and finally answered.

You saw him after the Sunday mass, as you were standing next to your mother while she was talking with someone else. He was nothing like you've ever seen before. Those piercing glistening in the sunlight just like the spikes on his vest. The distressed pants with patches and chains. And those heavy boots. He was the definition of perfection, definitely not to those around you, but for you without a doubt.

You have caught eye contact with that beautiful stranger. His stunning brown eyes stared into yours as he smirked at you. He probably thought you were just a pretty girl, you assumed. After all, why would he think differently?

“Do not look at him.” Your mother scolded you, grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face her. You could see the disgust on her face. You’ve never seen her with that kind of grimace on her face. “I do not want to see you near him. I can already tell he's no good.”

She didn't say it, but you could already tell she saw him as the embodiment of everything that was sinful. And the last thing she wanted was her precious daughter to stray from God's path.

You glanced at the punk for the last time before your mother said that you were going home. He still watched you. He wasn't sure what it was about you that made him want to get to know you. But something inside him told him that you needed him.

Since then you saw him around the town, but you didn't dare to come close to him. You felt a rush of excitement in your stomach every time you saw him, saw that smirk of his. You didn't have anyone who excited you the way he did. But he indeed did excite you, but you couldn't even talk to him, being scared your parents might yell at you.

Everything changed when you were peacefully reading the bible on the bench next to the church. It was so warm and sunny, so you picked a spot under a tree. Your hair was made into a long braid that was getting more loose without you noticing. 

You then heard someone sit next to you. You looked up from the bible to see him. That beautiful punk, smirking at you shamelessly. He looked even better up close. 

“Hello, luv. I'm Hobie.” His voice was lower than you thought it would be. But it sounded so good, so smooth you could almost melt. His eyes looked from your face to the bible you held your hand, then back to your face. You started wondering what was on his mind. “What's your name, hmm?”

You bashfully told him your name. You weren't sure how to act. Was he expecting you to pretend to be this perfect girl everyone perceived you as? Or maybe he was finally someone that could let you be yourself? Either way, you were scared to find out.

He chuckled at your bashful reaction. Your cheeks got pink so quickly. You were just so adorable. And so… innocent. But you had a feeling he could see right through you. See that all of this was just a facade and under all of it, there was a real you, trying to get to the surface. Trying to be free.

“Have you ever listened to punk rock?” Hobie asked out of nowhere. You blinked. You? Listening to loud, unapologetic music? You could never do that. At least not without worrying about being judged.

Finally you shook your head and his smirk widened. “Darlin’, we have to change that immediately.” He saw you shake your head even more. 

You heard about punk rock. The unapologetic and loud music for brutal men who have abandoned God's ways and all the rules. At least that's what you have been told by your mother. “They are good for nothing but corrupting the minds of pretty girls like you. And I cannot let that happen.” She told you and you wondered if Hobie was that type of punk. The type to ruin you and corrupt you.

“I-I can't. I am not allowed to listen to that kind of music.” You looked down at the bible in your hands, you couldn't look Hobie in the eyes. You expected him to think you were weird for not being allowed to listen to what you wanted. But all you wanted was to avoid conflict.

Hobie's face went from confusion to smirk again. “Oh please. I can see that there's a little rebel hidden behind those pretty innocent eyes.” So he indeed could right through you.

You nervously played with your hair, wanting to both agree and refuse. And in a quick moment, your beautiful braid was untied. “Oh no.” You watched your hairband fall onto the grass. Hobie noticed it too. He moved and grabbed it, quickly cleaning it off from all the dirt. “Allow me.” He spoke so softly. You weren't sure if you should allow him to touch you in any way, but he just wanted to help you tie your hair, right? 

You decided not to overthink it, sitting with your back facing him, so he could tie your hair. You didn't expect it, but he was so gentle with your hair. No harsh hair pulling. His fingers parted your hand so nicely before he began to braid it. You almost melted.

And soon, you had your pretty braid again. Not as perfect as you could have done it, but it was still really nice. “Thank you so much, Hobie.” You said quietly before excusing yourself and saying you had to go. His eyes softened, he only nodded, asking if he could talk to you again. “I hate to say it, but I can't be seen with you.” 

Hobie sighed, his fingertip tapped at his lip ring, he seemed lost in thoughts. “And if we meet in secret?” He looked down at you, you were so short compared to him. “You can come over to my place, no one will know you were with me and I could show you some of my world.” He spoke so proudly when he mentioned introducing you to his world. And even though you technically shouldn't be meeting him, you were more than curious. So you agreed at last.

Obviously, someone saw you with Hobie. Your parents weren't proud of you for talking to him. You had no other choice than to lie, just like you did when it came to who you really felt about yourself. 

Yes, I like this dress. 

Yes, I like those shoes.

Yes, my hair is so pretty when it's so long.

Yes, I am a girl.

You had to lie, even though you wish you didn't have to. But you hoped that at the end of the day, when you were praying before going to sleep, God would forgive you for lying to everyone around you. He would understand, right?

So, as always, you lied, telling your parents that Hobie asked for some help because he was a newcomer and didn't know the town very well. Your parents weren't happy you talked to him, but knew, or at least believed, you were too good and polite to refuse to help him. They didn't think twice about it, allowing you to go to your room. They didn't mention Hobie braiding your hair, so you just assumed they didn't know about it, so you decided not to mention it either. It was better to keep your mouth shut.

You were careful when the day of visiting Hobie came. You told your parents that you went to study the bible at your friend's house. They didn't suspect a thing. You made sure no one could see you as you made your way to Hobie's apartment. And soon enough, you were in front of the door of his apartment.

You knocked lightly, heard the sound of locks being unlocked and then the door finally opened. You saw Hobie and he looked at you with that same softness like the last time. But this time he rubbed one eye with a cotton pad. You had a look of confusion on your face when you saw that.

“Come in, luv.” He moved so you could come inside, but instead of looking around, you watched him.

“Are you… wiping off your makeup?” The question sounded so stupid in your mind. Men weren't wearing makeup… right?

Hobie chuckled softly before going to the bathroom to wipe the makeup off more precisely in front of the mirror. You saw a few small eyeshadow palettes with bright eyeshadow in them, along with eyeliner and even two lipsticks. Even you didn't own that much makeup, you barely had any makeup since your parents didn't want you to paint your face like a whore.

“Yeah. I have been to a small party outside the town, so I wanted to look me best.” Hobie explained, before throwing a dirty pad into the bin. He then turned to you, it was obvious that you never saw a man wearing makeup before. You've never seen someone like him before. He allowed himself to check you out, you had a long skirt and a cute top that matched the skirt so well. “I am guessing you never wore the kind of makeup I usually go for?”

His hand grabbed one of the eyeshadow palettes and gave it to you, so you could see the inside better. You didn't think much and opened it. You hand one makeup palette and it was mostly light browns, one a little more glittery eyeshadow and two light pinks. But Hobie’s? It was so colorful. Red, blue, green and yellow. All of them so bright and pigmented.

He smiled when he saw your reaction, he felt excitement in his stomach. You looked stunned. “Why don't I finally show you that punk rock?” He left the bathroom and you followed him. His apartment was a little messy. Posters on every wall, some chokers and other jewelry scattered in some places and some clothes laying around. But his room was even better. It was so… him. You could see the room scream Hobie. Even more posters, a guitar. It might have been a little messy, but it had so much character.

Hobie moved to the old cd player and in the matter of seconds, the loud music played. Black Flag on full volume. At first you weren't sure what to think, but soon, you started loving it. You stopped caring about anything when the music played, banging your head to the rhythm. At first a little shyly, but then you were more confident about it, not caring if you were going to mess up your hair. You looked so happy, you felt so happy. It has been since you felt like that.

Even since Hobie came here, he finally saw your smile, the real and sincere smile on that face of yours. But he saw it falter when Can't Decide by the Black Flag started playing.

Sun's coming up and I can't decide

To spill my emotions or keep them inside

Go for a drive, go to the store

I'm looking for something that can't be bought there

I always wear a smile

Because anything but a smile would make me have to explain

And they wouldn't understand anyway

And they wouldn't understand anyway

I conceal my feelings so I won't have to explain

What I can't explain anyway

It hit so close to home, you almost started sobbing. Hobie saw it immediately and turned the music off. He sat next to you, one arm around you while he rubbed your arm with the other to comfort you. He barely knew you, but he was so concerned about your well being already. “What happened, dove?” He asked so quietly, almost as if he was scared he might make you start crying just by asking.

But you weren't ready to admit what has been going inside your head for months. And he could see that so well. A few tears went down your cheeks so you asked for a tissue. You smudged your makeup a bit, but luckily Hobie was able to fix it with the only brown palette he owned, the one had forgotten about since he never used it.

You gathered your things and apologized. “Don't apologize, luv. Just know you can come and talk about what's going on in that pretty head of yours.” You only nodded before leaving. 

Your parents weren't home by the time you came back, they were probably in the neighbor's house, talking and eating how they did once in a while. Probably praising you how good and obedient you were, and how they were happy to have a daughter like you.

And after that situation at Hobie's place, it became harder to pretend. It became hard not to cry when you were called a perfect daughter, pretty girl and beautiful woman. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to talk with someone about it. And the only person who would not judge you was Hobie. 

It has been a while since you talked to him. But you came back, trembling, looking like you were about to start crying at any given moment. Hobie didn't think twice, he just let you in, sat down on the floor while he seated you on his bed. His calloused hands found yours and he caressed them gently in order to comfort you.

And finally, after all this time, you opened up about what has been on your mind for all those months. You explained how you felt trapped in your own body, how you hated being seen as a girl and how much it hurt when you were called and seen as one. How much you just wanted to be yourself.

Hobie's eyes softened, his hand touched your delicate cheek as his thumb stroked it. You didn't flinch away from his touch, instead you leaned into his hand, enjoying the way he touched you. “Darlin’, I think you might be trans.”

“I might be what?” Your nose was already stuffed from all that crying, making your voice sound funny. Hobie sighed before his lips curled into the soften of smiled. 

“Trans, hun.” You still looked confused, but he wasn't going to blame you. You've been living in a place where you were too scared to be yourself, you couldn't name your feelings even though you have been feeling them for months. It was obvious these people weren't talking about things like that, at least not in the way that would make you want to explore those feelings.

“It's uh, it's when your body doesn't match how you feel on the inside. Like you, you have been born as a woman, but you don't feel like one, don't you?” You shook your head, of course you didn't feel like a woman. Thinking about yourself as a woman didn't feel right. 

Hobie got an idea. “Why don't you go to the bathroom and take all of that off? I'll bring ya some clothes and then you'll tell me how you feel.” He helped you with making your way to the bathroom and closed the door after you. You took off the dress, standing in nothing more than your underwear. It felt a bit less suffocating to not be wearing that stupid dress.

Soon, you heard Hobie knock on the door. “I have some stuff I think might look good on you.” You covered yourself with the towel that was near you, not wanting for Hobie to see your body. But he didn't even peek in, instead he held the clothes for you, letting you grab them before he quickly closed the door behind him.

You looked down at the clothes. Some distressed jeans with patches and studded belt, white shirt with some graffiti, which you assumed was decorated by Hobie himself and even some hand warmers to match the outfit.

You had put on the outfit and left the bathroom, only to see Hobie waiting for you. His eyes sparkled when he saw you. And he could see it in your face that you felt better. He looked so excited for you.

But you still had that long braid. “Let me…” Hobie murmured before you felt him touch your hair again. You weren't sure what he did exactly, but when you stepped in front of the mirror, your hair looked so short. It wasn't perfect, but you loved how your hair looked, way more than it looked in a braid, ponytail or any other hairstyle you were used to. You looked like a boy, and you were so happy.

At that very moment, you knew you couldn't go back to how your life was before. You couldn't go back to wearing dresses, praying to the God that probably never listened to you and did not care about you. You could no longer pretend that you were the perfect girl you were seen as until now.

Hobie's hands grabbed you by your shoulder. “Do you want me to call by a different name?” He asked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as he rubbed your shoulders. You thought about it for a moment, before looking up at him and speaking up. “Do you think [Name] would suit me?”

Hobie chuckled and nodded. “Definitely, luv. Definitely.” He couldn't help himself and softly kissed your cheek. You were surprised by the sudden affection, but you enjoyed it.

“I want you to cut my hair. I want it short..” You said so suddenly, your voice was a little shaky, but you couldn't wait anymore. You have wanted to cut it for a while and you didn't want anyone else other than Hobie to do it. He was surprised by you. He didn't expect you to want to do it now.

“Are you su–” 

“Yes, I am sure.” You cut him off, you didn't want to be mean, but you couldn't wait any longer. “Please… I don't want to go back to what was before. I don't want to pretend to be someone who I am not.” You begged, you sounded so desperate. He couldn't say no to you when you sounded like that.

“Okay.” He said, giving your shoulders a squeeze before he took you to the bathroom. He brought a small stool and seated you on it. He grabbed a scissors, untied your hair, looking at it for the last time before he started cutting it. You squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach swirling with anxiety, as you listened to the sound of the scissors cutting your hair.

Snip! Snip! Snip!

You felt your hair, your hair that you got so many compliments on, tickling your arms and neck before it fell down on the bathroom floor. “Done.” Hobie said, his voice was flat. It made you worry. Did you look bad? Did he mess up your hair? Was it a mistake?

He brushed the cut hair off of you, before you stood up and looked in the mirror. It was not perfect, but it still made you feel good. You started sobbing immediately. “Dove? Are you alright?” Hobie asked, worried and a little panicked.

“I've never felt better.” You sobbed out and he sighed, relieved that you liked it. He hugged you tightly, being so glad to see you happy with who you were.

But it couldn't go on forever. You came home pretty late, still wearing the clothes Hobie gave you earlier. And in the hoodie he gave so you wouldn't be cold while coming back home. You knew confrontation wouldn't be something you were able to avoid . And you knew it wouldn't be a light confrontation either.

Your parents were sitting in the living room. As soon as you closed the front door behind you, you heard your father call you by the name you no longer wished to be called by. You took a deep breath, pulling a hood over your head before you entered the living room. Your parents eyes were immediately on you, your mother gasped loudly.

“What the fuck is that!?” Your father yelled, he stood up and grabbed you by the hood and yanked it off your head. He intended to grab you by your hair, but there was nothing to grab. Your lovely long hair was long gone and there was nothing they could do about it. In a way, that made you proud.

“What have you done to yourself!?” Your mother shouted with tears in her eyes. You've never seen her crying and you didn't expect her to get so emotional. She always seemed so cold. “Where's your hair? Your dress?” She's never been so panicked. “What will we say to the others once they see that your hair is gone? What will they think of us? What will they think of you?”

There was this need to apologize, turn the time back and never let yourself explore who you really were. But you weren't going to let this need win. You have been obedient for way too long. You were pretending for way too long and now? You were tired of it.

“I don't fucking care what are they going to think of me!” You shouted back. Both of your parents were startled by the fact that you just cursed. They never heard you curse, nor did they hear you sound so confident. “I have been pretending to be someone who I wasn't me for way too long. I am not going to let you decide about how I am anymore!” 

Slap!

Your father slapped you so hard you fell to the floor. Your cheek was all red already. You and your mother were both shocked. Your father was about to take his belt off and start beating you, but your mother stopped him. “I am sure there's something we can do instead of beating her up. People will notice and they might think we were the one to cut her hair off. We can buy a wig until her hair grows back.”

“I am not growing it back and I am not putting the dresses back on.” You hissed. Maybe you shouldn't have done that, but you ripped off the virgin Mary necklace off your neck and threw it.

Your parents were more than shocked at your action. “She must have been corrupted by that punk!” Your mother cried out. “What are we going to–” Your father lost his temper. Instead of beating you up like he initially planned, he grabbed you and threw you out the door. “I no longer have a daughter!” It was the last thing you heard before he closed the door.

Soon, your father started throwing your things out the window. All those gorgeous dresses and skirts flying out the window. Before you were terrified to even slightly rip them and now? You didn't care that they got dirty, they stopped mattering to you. You only waited for your father to throw your phone. You wanted to catch it, but it fell onto the concrete, the phone screen broke, but luckily for you, you still were able to use it. You grabbed some more important things that your father had thrown and then made your way to Hobie's apartment.

He was concerned, but both of you knew it was better that way. If you stayed, nothing would change and everything would go worse. More praying, more femininity, more pretending. But you weren't going to stay with your parents, luckily Hobie said you could stay with him.

You were laying with Hobie in his bed. You were so lost in your thoughts and he could see it clearly. Hobie laid on his side to face you, the tips of his fingers brushed against your jaw to get your attention. You turned to look at him. “You okay?” You put your hands on your face and sighed.

“I'm fine. It’s just… I've wanted to be myself for a while and I…” You paused for a moment, not looking into Hobie's eyes. In a way, it all felt unreal. Usually, you would now be in your bed, reading the bible or praying. And now, you were laying with a man you didn't know very well, but he gave you everything you could have asked for. Acceptance, help and hope. 

Your eyes finally met his again. “I didn't expect that it would actually happen. I thought I was going to be everyone's perfect girl until I die, but you came into my life and changed everything. Thank you so much for that.” You smiled at him, you were so grateful he came into your life. He smiled back at you and leaned to kiss your cheek.

“You're very welcome, luv.” 

You both left the town as quickly as you could since that happened. Now, it has been 6 years since the day you met him. Everything has been truly perfect since then. Your transition was going well and you recently had your top surgery.

And Hobie? He was with you the whole time. During the first appointment at the doctor, he helped you take your first testosterone shot and he held your hand both before and after the surgery.

Life couldn't be more perfect and you never felt more perfect.

taglist: @sk3llly

[gurggggleburgle]

Every time I think about the return to childhood extra I'm reminded that the reason it's no fun for Luo Binghe is that it forces this budding and progressive communication and understanding going on between the two to a standstill and in some ways reverses it.

And it's simply because Binghe has already been the doting child of Shizun before. He already knows what it's like to be seen as the fluffy kid hanging around his Master. He already knows what it's like to feel powerless and on an uneven ground with his Shizun. Binghe wants to turn back ASAP because he is finally getting to have an adult relationship and be seen as equal. He doesn't like being helpless (he may cry for attention but hes not helpless) but he also doesn't like being back where he was when he was a disciple.

And yeah it would suck. He can't be romantic with his own husband. He can't express himself and be taken seriously. Everyone is quick to pinch his cheeks and try to steal his husband. Your body isn't tall enough to reach the shelf you placed the pots and pans on. The knife is awkward in your child sized palms. Brooms are too tall. You can't scare off any of the people you dislike and you don't have a network of friends you can explain this too because you're a super scary demon lord and your closest possible friends are your coworkers and you happen to be their boss (and right now they might try to kill you) so you can't be vulnerable with them.

And yes. You can be open with your husband but he doesn't see the big deal the same way. He doesn't get it because functionally this is a good enough time for him because you're a cute dumpling and it's temporary. And yeah it is but also it's that you feel your husband is being nostalgic for a version of yourself that exists in the past that you don't necessarily want to repeat. Not to mention Binghe had a frankly shitty childhood. Yes his life improved once he moved in with Shizun for 3 years but that's 3 out 17. Most of that was spent in poverty and being stepped on by everyone else around him. He doesn't have a nostalgia for childhood. He doesn't miss being a kid. What he wants from that time is the lack of animosity and misunderstanding, the simplicity, that came from the abyss which by this point is mostly a mute desire. So it has to hurt being stuck in a situation like this. An emotional limbo of expression where you can't really say what's on your mind and people basically express the same opinions you're certain they already would say to your face as you stand smoll in the room. That has to hurt. That has to make you doubt things in your relationship. To hear every bias you have built in your head that others have confirmed constantly but now directly to your face while they think you're your own son.

It's a baad time.

If Shen Qingqiu had turned into a kid honestly I think Luo Binghe would have had a marginally better time. He'd love to see and dote on a tiny Shizun and pinch their cheeks and tease. But he'd be over it by the end of the week for almost the exact same reasons. Like yeah he can attic wife his husband so easy right now but he doesn't care about Shen Qingqiu being a kid. He has no reason to be invested in that experience. He doesn't get anything out if it. He still doesn't get to do what he wants which is an adult relationship with the person he loves that he can show people and present this to the world. Binghe doesn't get anything out of a child Shizun. It becomes a stall in exploring and learning each other which is the point of the extras. Yes, it probably be a wholesome good time but the same problems would happen but Shen Yuan isn't likely to nearly the same reaction because he's already a trophy husband. It's not like he's cooking or cleaning. He's already used to everyone wistfully staring at Binghe with interest. This doesn't effect how Shen Yuan processes their relationship.

It makes the fact that Luo Binghe still thinks that Shen Yuan will say no to marriage even after everything just hit harder. Because even after everything he's still thinking of that probably. There are more extras assuring him but that doubt remains and it's so juicy.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Now that there's an animated adaptation of Midnight Sun coming, and given the industry's recent track record (see: Minecraft Movie), what's the worst, bad faith, cash grab adaptation idea you can imagine? I figure if we inoculate ourselves then the reality won't suck so much.

My nightmare: Streaming has a long history of making shitty attempts at "adult animation", so we'll get an Edward who constantly cusses and does lewd jokes. It'll be like the HBO adult animated Velma (Scooby Doo) show where the writers' disdain for the characters fills every scene. The first episode will focus on how Carlisle helps plan a murder of some overly suspicious deputy so they can keep living in Forks.

Anyways, worst case theories? So we can feel better when it's not THAT bad? Or else use the apollo prophecy meme on your post a year or two from now.

My 'realistic' prediction

Twilight: The Edgy Animated Adult Series with Twelve Times More Drugs and Swearing

Oh man, yours is worse than mine. I mean this guessing the future business is a little silly in general, but I think that wouldn't happen as Twilight's not...

How do I put this?

Scooby Doo is a beloved, vintage, IP that's so well-known it's a part of American culture/Americana. It's in that weird place where it's acceptable to do edgy reboots of it because everyone already knows the premise of the Scooby gang, each individual character, the bad guys, and their mysteries.

You don't have to explain who any of the characters are supposed to be, so you get a "ah ha ha ha isn't it funny that Velma swears now?" because you know she's from a 1960's cartoon.

Twilight's not quite old enough for that and, at least in my opinion, not pervasive enough for that. It was a huge sensation, but was never as big as HP, and dominated only a subset of the YA audience (female-targeted YA romance). Ask a person off the street and the most they can probably, maybe, tell you is "sparkly vampires and Team Edward and Team Jacob". So, at best you get riffs like we saw when Twilight came out with the Simpsons and various other parodies where the parodies... really didn't know what to do with the characters or what it was even about. "Milhouse turns into a poodle, I guess? Is that funny? It's funny, right?"

Twilight just isn't old enough and as big as it was, I don't think was widespread enough.

So, I think we're going to get an earnest reboot.

But you do now have me concerned. And I may be eating my words later on this post and reblogging with a clown face.

Other Theories

Alright, let's see what we've got/what we can come up with:

Yours: HBO adult comedy horror fest

Mine: Boring, Snoozeville, Tame, Generically Arted Palatable Twilight that is Designed to Be as Appealing as Possible

Other options I can think of are...

Interview with a Vampirepalooza/Oh God I Don't Know What's Popular: given the recent success of Interview with a Vampire, an edgier adult story with adult characters, Netflix will look to make Twilight their exact own version of that. Except they won't understand what made it work there. We sexy it up but in a CW way, the kids are all still in high school but the fact that the Cullens are fucking each other is brought up relentlessly in an edgy way. The vampires all look hot, hot, hot but in a normal human way where you're not terrified they're some crystal robot out to eat your limbs. We'll keep some of the artsy weird dialogue, but Edward will be both somehow made more sympathetic (as he is the lead we end up with) and 'dark' where he's dangerous in a sexy way and not in a "you smell like my personal heroin way".

The Buffy Route: remember that one teen show from the 90's that was so good it spun off an entire genre of television that essentially hadn't existed before? Twilight becomes a fun teen oriented show where the characters say witty, fun, teenage-like things and get into episodic mysteries while somehow trying to remain in the realm of Twilight. Edward loses his edge, Bella loses her unrelatable nature, and we really play up every time a character has a funny line and write a lot more in there. Unfortunately, it's not a well written teen comedy show and so the lines are just generally bad and the plot never seems to go anywhere and it's just boring.

Hannibal the Twilight: some really artsy director gets involved and we now have a show where the symbolism of Edward walking around as a man-deer takes over the entire fucking thing. Nothing ever happens, Edward just shows up in Bella's dreams as a snarling man deer. When characters talk to each other, it's in artsy nonsense dialogue where it feels like both are reading 2000's era chatbot scripts to one another as they mix metaphors about ponies, china pottery, and dust motes. The plot is so non-existant the only important episodes to watch in a season are the premier and finale, except even then it's unclear what happened.

Audience Input

Anyone else got any wild guesses here?

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Friend Marzi, why do we have an inclination to believe that all historical clothing was very heavy? Fabrics varied in lightness and for the very heat of summer for example an all-silk or all-muslin ensemble could be made very light and breathable if necessary, even foregoing implements like boning, etc. Like, there are ways to not be dragging your skirts around.

Working people and people with active hobbies were already wearing fewer layers anyway, so we shouldn't expect them to be encumbered. Why do we anyway?

Friend Tumblr User Chasingtheskyline! Hello!

(This answer will focus primarily on conventionally feminine clothing, since that's my area of expertise. Just to disclaim.)

I think it's because of the layering, really. And the idea that, as you touched on, Only Rich People Wore All That (not so much- the basic makeup of chemise/combinations, maybe drawers post-1820s, corset/stays, at least one petticoat, skirt, bodice for women was pretty consistent across most of the social ladder during the 18th and 19th centuries at least) so of COURSE it's heavy and impractical. And as we all know, rich people didn't have lives or do things! They just lounged around being rich and not moving! </s>

We're used to one layer of our mostly-polyester clothing being extremely warming in summer because. It's polyester. Breathability is not something people think about much nowadays, since we're so used to just exposing as much skin as possible to cool down. Ergo, the idea that it's layers of lightweight fabric doesn't really occur to people, I think.

Another element, I think, may be that some of these people have carried reproduction historical garments but never worn them. Or weighed them in a heap on a scale- yes, really -and never taken into account the weight distribution when they're on a body. I've owned garments that were a bear to carry, but perfectly comfortable to wear.

Also, you know. We've long had a vested interest in making our own garments seem like The Best Most Advanced Garments. You can find articles from as early as the 1920s decrying Victorian "trailing skirts and trailing hair" as unhygienic and uncomfortable Never mind that the ADULTS saying this would have known full well that shorter skirts were commonplace for situations where Excessive Dirt would be present and grown women wore their hair up. (Also, you know. Unless you're licking your hem, your skirts cannot get you sick.)

Either you're getting only the experiences of women who hated what they wore before- which would somehow be the same fashion writers who once declared that the gowns of 1915 were the best, or 1910, or 1905 -or they had a vested interest in selling something to the public: in this case, the hottest, newest clothes (and hairstyles that required more regular trips to the hairdresser than long hair pinned up). Of course you get those writers calling earlier clothing heavy- they're trying to get people to buy rayon flapper dresses!

Now, does that mean that nobody in history found their clothing heavy? Of course not. One of Amelia Bloomer's key complaints about the fashions of the 1840s and early 50s was the many layers of petticoats women often wore to create the fashionable skirt shape- and while I'm often loath to take dress reformers as sole arbiters of women's opinion, the invention of the cage crinoline/hoop skirt was widely hailed as a marvel for enabling big skirts with much less weight.

But you're so right that this perception is extremely exaggerated nowadays. I do my best to fight it- had this conversation with a colleague today, as I was wearing a long-sleeved blouse of cotton voile and a long cotton skirt to work in 80-degree (F) weather -but. Well. It DOES get frustrating at times.

[aftonfamilyvalues]

how women on here are reacting to the boxing situation is the final straw for me with radblr tbh.

like imagine this scenario for a second: people are making false claims about you that you not only can easily disprove with a simple, uninvasive test, but you've ALREADY DONE said test in the past so you'd just need to ask them to publish the results. you can debunk these claims with the same amount of effort required to push a button.

but you don't. you have Literally The Easiest Option In The World to prove you're right and you don't do it.

and yet because women have created their own OC for this guy in their heads who is a female with androgen issues they'd rather defend their self-made blorbo as a way to peacock about how "yes all women" and/or "not racist" they are than do 2 seconds of research and critical thinking to realize "hey maybe this situation that fits literally all the criteria for the dude being a male, including the fact that he's been previously disqualified from competing in the women's league TWICE yet shows up for the Female Olympics anyway, means he's actually just a liar and cheater"

i'm open to having some sympathy for him if his parents (tried to*) raise him as a girl but like. he's a fucking adult. he took a sex test. he knows who he is now. he's making his own decisions. one of these decisions is choosing to hide who he is.

*idc how misogynistic his parents are in believing "no vagina??? but no penis. no penis = female. because female = non-male.", if they knew he had a male-specific dsd that coloured how they raised and treated him, even if they tried to hide it. the act itself of hiding it from him and trying not to raise him that way makes their treatment of him already inherently different from how they'd raise him if he were actually female.

link here

im going to try to go about this in the most respectful way possible.

i cant say i agree with everything youre saying here. theres still a lot of misinformation about this and i cant say a slatz tweet is very satisfying for me given the racist and homophobic things ive seen from her. but, if what you say is true, that this boxer is an intersex male who was assigned female at birth, i think its completely unfair to treat her entirely as a man. the community tends to regard itself as a place for intersex women too, those with this particular dsd were not spared misogyny just because they unknowingly had xy chromosomes. learning they are biologically male with a dsd doesnt mean they have a desire to completely restructure their lives and identity around being men, i think thats kind of insane to expect.

that being said, i think there needs to be a reevaluation of fairness in sports and how intersex people fall into it. what advantages or disadvantages do intersex women carrying a y chromosome have over those that dont? what male charactistics (bone density, for example) still exist in these women? do they pose a danger to other women in their sport? what about other intersex conditions? at what point does it become unfair? unfortunately it could lead to their exclusion, and if that happens will there be another place for them? theres a lot to consider and things will have to change as we learn more. its not really a black and white situation in my opinion.

[holybibly]

Hey girl, some dumb miserable bitch decided to make a hate spreadsheet! and you're on it.. just felt like you should know..

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/18bI1CPNpx3vncNjfL-FsKqdV-VBXFZNGbseii8sjJ_Y/edit?usp=sharing

Hi bunny, thanks for letting me know. What a nice start to my vacation 🤭

It's actually quite interesting, don't you think, bunnies?

Of course, I am so pleased that they think so highly of me and consider me a sort of "cult leader." You know, before, this would have caused me another emotional breakdown, and I'm sure I would have thought about it for quite a long time. But now I've grown out of it.

I think we are all adults here, and we can make our own decisions. No matter how sweet and kind I would be to you or anyone else, there will always be people who will think I am the most horrible person on the planet and quite rude, which really surprises me because they probably don't even know who I am.

The fact that my opinion does not agree with others is not my problem; I can express my thoughts and will always focus on the fact that "my personal opinion" is something you can agree or disagree with; it is your personal choice.

I also think that people who do this are a real problem in the community, and that's probably why I've switched fandoms. Unfounded hatred is the reason many authors stop writing and retreat into themselves. You want to start a witch hunt? Come and say it to my face, if you're not afraid, of course.

Besides, only my followers can decide whether I treat them rudely, arrogantly, or as my subjects. You see, writers are people too, and for me, for example, it would be easier to delete the blog and disappear completely than to put up with such crap. I'm too old for that.

I would advise anyone making such lists to read more books and experience the beauty of the world around them rather than creating negativity in an already unfriendly world.

[genderqueerdykes]

“ it wasn't called HRT at my appointment, i was just told i had to take estrogen (and progesterone) now to "fix" everything that was "wrong", like my facial hair and high androgen levels. it was until i was able to take things into my own hands and start testosterone that i felt much more like i was inside my own body. i WISH i had gotten the choice to start T, or just not take the estrogen at all, but i wasn't. i was told i HAD to take it, because something was "wrong" with me.”

Same here. I keep insisting on it being wrong and being forced on it anyway. How did you advocate for yourself?

i'm so sorry you understand this experience and are going through this as well

for me, it was because after i became a legal adult, i moved to a different part of the country with a friend, and stopped seeing that OBGYN. i stopped taking my estrogen and forgot about it for a while before i realized i was trans a few years later and pivoted to finding out how to get on testosterone. i was very fortunate that there is a transgender resource center in my area and they gave me tips on how to get an appointment fast, so as my body came down off the estrogen, it had time to prepare before i started the testosterone. it wasn't intentional it just worked out like that

if you are a legal adult, or once you become one, you have the right to just stop seeing that doctor. you always have the right to a second (or third, or fourth, etc.) opinion- if you disagree with what your doctor is providing you, you do have the right to switch providers. there is also the option of finding out how to safely wean yourself off of it and stop taking it. they can keep prescribing it but you don't *have* to take it. if you are a minor in some other situation where you cannot choose your health care provider or you are in some way incapable of refusing to take the hormone- i would recommend looking into case management services (i recommend it either way) to see what you can do to switch to a trans (and hopefully intersex) informed endocrinologist or gender affirming care doctor.

if any other intersex folk would like to chime in with advice, feel free. i hope you're able to find a way to have a bigger say in what happens with your own body. if you have any more questions please feel free to ask, we're here to help

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What does Zuko do for Mai? She clearly puts a lot of effort into the relationship but he doesn't.

He had a lot of growing up to do before he could be in a relationship with ANY girl. Mai came through for him but he never did for her. It makes sense that he originally didn't have a love interest.

...You come into MY HOUSE to talk shit about MY BOY? And about MY SHIP? Anon, grab a sword, we're gonna fight!

Okay now, jokes aside, while Zuko has some maturing to do, so does Mai. And they'd still make mistakes even if their family lives hadn't deeply traumatized them because they're teenagers. Lots of the mistakes they've made (jealousy, poor communication, one accidentally being too aloof, etc) are stuff perfectly healthy and mature adults still make because surprise surprise, figuring out how to make things work with someone is hard, and considering their traumas and the situation they were in, they could have done A LOT worse.

Nothing either of them has done crosses the line into "Behavior that indicates this person should not be in a romantic relationship with ANYONE, at least for now." It's typical relationship stuff that either results on a permanent break-up or a temporary falling out that pushes both to get their shit together and be better for each other.

Not to mention, the root of all of Zuko's issues was the fact that he was abuse victim who was struggling to cope with his abuser being not only his own father but the absolute monarch of their nation. He got used to not being able to trust that someone's affection for him was genuine, to fear that it could suddenly be stolen away.

That he couldn't rely on anyone else because THE person that was supposed to take care of him betrayed him in such a cruel way and got away with it. That feeling entitled to things and then using whatever means to obtain it was the ONLY way to not be neglected, ignored and taken advantage of.

His abuser is gone now, but no matter how much therapy (or at least the ATLA equivalent of it) he gets, Zuko will only learn how to have healthy relationship through practical means because it's REALLY easy to be a good partner in THEORY, but things always get messy when you're dealing with the real thing.

Reality is very different from hypothetical scenarios in which you're dealing with the idea of a partner that never misunderstands you, never says things in a way that didn't realize weren't clear enough for you, never loses their temper, never takes things to heart, never fucks up, never needs a bit of space when you fuck up, never is as in the dark as you are about how to handle an unexpected issue, never gets too needy, never gets too distant - never acts like a human being.

Zuko still makes mistakes when it comes to his uncle and his friends, but no one says "That means Zuko should not have a father figure nor friends" because we saw that being alone Gives Him Very Bad Ideas. Why should romance be any different? A relative or a friend can hurt you just as much as a romantic partner can, and be just as hurt by stuff you do. It makes no sense to act like a flawed person is allowed to want a family and friends, but not a committed relationship.

As to what Mai gets out of this:

1 - Zuko loves her for who she is and canonically likes it when she expresses herself, even when what she is expressing is "Zuko, I'm done with your bullshit". For someone who has been neglected and taught over and over that her opinions don't matter, that means a lot.

2 - When Zuko changed sides, he didn't try to guilt her into leaving with him, and didn't hold it against her when it looked like she was gonna remain loyal to Azula. Compare that to her parents not giving a shit that she didn't want to move to Omashu, or to her knowing there was a possibility of her getting killed by Azula if she displeased her, and tell me in which relationship Mai feels she has the most agency.

Zuko is not a perfect boyfriend, but the simple fact that Mai isn't even slightly afraid to talk back to him when he goes too far speaks volumes on who she feels safer with and trusts to never try to coerce her into staying if she ever decides to leave.

3 - Mai and Zuko enjoy each other's company, are attracted to each other and he is as openly affectionate with her as she is with him. Even the sea-shell she didn't like and the ice-cream he accidentally dropped on her lap were just him trying to spoil her a bit - and he managed to do it in a way she'd appreciate in Nightmares and Daydreams.

He can be a jerk sometimes due to his anger issues (something he canonically was working on and wanted to move past), but he could also be a genuinely caring boyfriend.

4 - Zuko was also neglected and made to feel worthless for most of his life. They can relate to each other.

5 - Three years into his banishment, after no seeing her for a long time and unsure if he'd ever even hear from her again, he still thought of how Azula pulled a prank on them because of Mai's crush on him.

He constantly sought her out for comfort when he was back in the Fire Nation, even when she didn't really know how to handle that yet. Out of all the things he had left behind when he joined the Gaang, she was the one he openly said he'd miss. He was overjoyed when they were reunited in the finale.

Even his not at all healthy levels of jealousy are extra proof that he isn't just putting up with her like her family, he cares about her and actively WANTS her in his life, to the point of being scared that someone could "steal" her from him - and again, Mai feels more than comfortable enough to call him out when he goes too far, so it never crosses the line into "He means well, so lets excuse the bad behavior."

Mai feels wanted, safe and understood. Girl could do a lot worse.

[qqueenofhades]

I frankly sometimes feel like social media has ultimately given a lot of people the illusion of power, while also causing them to become corrupted in a similar way to traditional forms of power, only without any actual power that goes with it. The similarities in their behavior to the latter is disturbing as hell, ESPECIALLY given the horrid behavior of online types the past few months.

I really can't emphasize enough how much of a constructed and artificial environment social media is, especially these days, and especially the Social Media Platform Formerly Known as Twitter, which is still the main avenue by which a lot of people attempt to "do" social justice. Once upon a time, Twitter was a moderately beneficial public communication service because everyone and God was on it and you could therefore get communiques directly from the source, there was a blue-check verification service that actually helped you understand who was real and who was not, and while there were serious and ongoing flaws such as there is when useful public discourse is sacrificed on the Great Altar of Profit, there was at least some attempt to monitor or ban Nazis, white supremacists, bad actors, and eventually Trump himself. All of that changed and/or was directly destroyed when Apartheid Clyde took over and turned it into a revenue-generating service for Russian propaganda, alt-right cranks, bots, and the rest of the Elon Fanclub willing to pay $8 for a meaningless blue checkmark, while trashing the site's guardrails and any other useful features. It basically exists for Elon to fanboy Putin, Trump, white supremacy, his 4chan trolls, and anything else that makes his money (while Mr. Free Speech Absolutist arbitrarily bans anyone who hurts his man-child fee-fees). This is not an unbiased, neutral, or constructive environment to start with. You don't have any certainty about who you're interacting with or who is amplifying your messages, and only a hardcore-radicalized (of whatever persuasion) base of human users remain, while a lot of casual users have left.

As such, if you're basing anything (hypothesis, claim, source, evidence, opinion) on "what everyone on Twitter thinks," that is fatally flawed data to start with. Even at the peak of its popularity, something like 24% of all American adults regularly used Twitter. That still means 76% of the country who doesn't (and the number is larger now as Chucklefuck McGee has continued driving it into the ground). If you're forming your ideas or looking for "what America thinks" just by quoting or relying on the tweets of people who already agree with you, you've done basically nothing and you certainly haven't proved it, you've stunted your own critical thinking skills, and you are selecting from a data source that is already fatally poisoned and limited in any number of ways. Adding to the echo chamber of similar opinions on Twitter is not going to actually influence public policy or make lasting change. Yes, the interns and/or public relations staff of the public figures still on there will probably check the feed every so often and make note of things that come up, but couching it as mindless vitriolic abuse and/or demonstrably nonsensical things is not going to get back to their boss. It will just be ignored and/or given less weight in the limited space available for things that are deemed important enough to actually follow up on/make policy around.

Also, a lot of people saw Trump tweeting insane things at 3am for four years, and somehow decided that was actually how US/American presidential and governmental policy was made, rather than that he was a fucking narcissistic-personality-disorder psychopathic lunatic. But uh, and it should go without saying, it didn't work. Just because Trump posted something absolutely unhinged and announced it was now policy, that doesn't mean it was. Half the time he didn't even do so much as issue an executive order, those can be and regularly are challenged in courts, and so forth, because despite all its flaws, America is not an absolute monarchy where the king can rule by fiat and have it totally done, no questions, the end. That's also why Trump's second term would be even more dangerous than his first. In his first, he was flailing around and yelling on Twitter and not really paying attention to anything. In his second, the administration will be staffed top to bottom with dedicated fascists like the Heritage Foundation's Project 2025 people, who have spent the last four years brooding on revenge and drawing up detailed plans to actually co-opt and suborn all the levers, checks, balances, controls, and functions of government directly to Trump's personal will (and/or the outrageously evil people pulling strings behind the scenes, because Trump is now basically a gibbering orange vegetable and the media is still far too beholden to the Biden Old!!! narrative to accurately report this).

In short, another Trump term (God fucking forbid) would be run by the kind of methodical and careful evildoers who know that policy isn't made by tweet, and would act accordingly. That would be much, much harder to remove, counteract, or fix, it would almost certainly lead to the end of American democracy at least for most of our lifetimes, and the repercussions of that would be absolutely terrible. But because we still have people who act like Trump is somehow a preferable option, who think that it's bad that Biden is trying to work through established and long-term channels to make sustainable policy and not just get short-term chuckles from an internet dopamine approval rush, that is the risk we are running from now until November 2024. After that, either way, we'll know for sure: we'll finally have a measure of safety, or we will be comprehensively fucked for generations. We all have the power to influence which of those outcomes come to pass. I suggest we use it.